


The Main Event: All Male Revue

by n3rdybird



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Reader-Insert, WWE - Freeform, stripper!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24694015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/n3rdybird/pseuds/n3rdybird
Summary: The curtain is raised and the stage is set, for some of the sexiest men to entertain you.  (Wrestler!Stripper AU) This is what happens when you watch Magic Mike before a PPV.
Relationships: Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Reader, Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/You, Finn Balor | Prince Devitt/Reader, Finn Balor | Prince Devitt/You, Roman Reigns/Reader, Roman Reigns/You, Seth Rollins | Tyler Black/Reader, Seth Rollins | Tyler Black/You
Kudos: 8





	1. Demon Behind the Smile

Stripper!Finn x Reader

You’ve had a crush on your neighbor Finn ever since he helped you when you moved into your new apartment. His amazing smile and an offer to help carry a heavy box had you smitten. As you navigate your blossoming feelings for your kind and sometimes dorky neighbor, one night you see a side of him you could have never imagined.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You cursed loudly as your keys fell to the ground with a traitorous clink. Arms laden with groceries (because only losers took two trips), you were attempting to open your apartment door and failed miserably. You huffed and wedged an armful of groceries between the wall and your hip as you shakily kneeled to reach your keys.

“Let me get that for ya,” a familiar voice offered. 

You looked up to see your neighbor smiling like a ray of sunshine. Though from your position, your eyes landed on his abs first, which were level with your face.

You quickly averted your eyes, trying valiantly to not ogle his form as your gaze traveled up to his face. His blue eyes relayed the mirth he found in the situation. Finn, your neighbor of several months and your crush for just as long, stood in front of you; bare-chested, his skin glistening from his daily run. Tearing your eyes from his body, you gave him a wry smile.

“That’d be great,” you said in relief, as he grabbed your keys and you straightened up.

“Could you get the door for me?” you asked, motioning to your door with your hip.

“O course love,” he agreed, opening your door and moving out-of-the-way.

As you set your groceries down on the counter, he joined you, handing you your keys.

This was the first time he’d been inside your apartment. As his eyes traveled around your home, you prayed that you hadn’t left anything out. You were guilty of stripping as soon as you got home; the hot sun was not your friend.

The extent of your ‘relationship’ was strictly neighborly. You exchanged pleasantries in the hallway, commenting on the hot weather or gossiping about the other tenants in the building. One time you had received one of his packages and you laughed when you found out it was a limited edition Lego set he was waiting on eagerly. He lit up like a kid at Christmas when you presented the missing package, and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

So now that he was standing in front of you, panting a bit from his exercise, you said the first thing that came to your mouth.

“You look hot,” you blurted out.

He coughed, trying to hide the laugh that was threatening to escape his mouth.

You flushed, internally cursing the connection between your brain and mouth.

“I don’t mean hot, like ‘hot’ hot. I mean you are, but-” you groaned at your word vomit. This was why you were single. You were cursed. Had to be. No other explanation. You were trying to think what you did to deserve this kind of laughable cosmic karma when you finally found your words.

“What I meant to say is ‘Do you want something to drink?’” you enunciated clearly, raising your eyes to the amused face of Finn.

“I’m good, thank ya though. I’ve gotta go get ready for work,” he explained, nodding towards your door.

“Of course, sorry for keeping you. You can just let yourself out,” you said, busying yourself with putting your groceries up.

“Alright, later neighbor,” he said with a wave before leaving your apartment. Once you heard your front door shut, you dropped your head on the counter with an audible thunk.

“Fuck.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting with your best friends during your weekly ‘Girl’s Night’, you hadn’t anticipated the need to dodge spewed beer after relaying the story of the ‘Incident’. Nikki covered her mouth, coughing and laughing.

“Sorry about that (Y/N),” she apologized through her laughter. Natalya tossed a napkin at Nikki’s head, and zeroed back to you.

“So you said what?” she asked you, swirling her cocktail, intent on your answer.

“I word vomited, it was awful,” you moaned into your drink, sucking hard on your straw, wanting more alcohol to wash away your embarrassment.

Nattie patted your shoulder.

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad, have you talked to him since?”

You mumbled around your straw.

“What was that?” Nikki said leaning close into your face.

“I said “I’ve been avoiding him”,” you sighed. Natalya threw her straw at you in exasperation.

“Come on girl, you guys live next door to each other, what have you been doing, jumping into the bushes?”

When you didn’t meet her eyes, Natalya shook her head.

“Hopeless (y/n),” she chided.

“Dun be so harsh on her Nattie, Ah distinctly remember you running into a glass door trying ta get away from your ex,” the brunette said, raising her brow.

Natalya pursed her lips as you laughed at the memory, Nikki joining you.

“Alright alright, we all remember that. Now, to help with (Y/N)’s love woes, I have a plan,” the blonde changed the subject and placed a flyer on the bar top.

Nikki leaned over the table to look at the advertisement.

“How’s naked men gonna help?”

“Naked?!?”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After explaining that it wasn’t a brothel but a very popular all male strip show, you relented. After a couple of shots that is. So you found yourself front and center at one of the many tables surrounding a dark stage. Nikki excitedly ordered garish cocktails with straws that looked like penises, laughing maniacally as the three of you took some selfies.

When the show started, you were afraid your group was going to get kicked out. Nattie and Nikki were definitely loud and crazy, especially when they were downing cocktails.

But you had nothing to worry about. It seemed like every woman in the place was amped up to the max, making the air feel like electricity.

The smooth talking MC, the “Miz”, introduced a cavalcade of very sexy, very limber men, in some of the smallest and tightest briefs ever conceived by mankind. You thought your ear drums were going to pop from all the women screaming and throwing money around. But it was fun, especially when one of the men took one look at Nikki’s crazy eyes and pulled her into the weirdest dance off you’d ever seen.

As the dancer tucked a few bills into Nikki’s pocket as a thank you for the dance, the stage was getting reset for the next performer.

“Alright Ladies, are you ready for the dark prince of the club. The man who haunts your dreams at night when you are all alone under the covers,” MC Miz said, waggling his brows at a few women who let out cheers. “Let me introduce you to Main Event’s own, the Demon King!” 

The lights dimmed and a rolling fog of smoke covered the stage. The music hit, and the spotlight illuminated a man with his back to the crowd, clad in a leather jacket. He turned around and you froze, recognizing him instantly.

He stalked the stage like a predator, staring hard into the crowd, his lips upturned in a smirk. The crowd yelled as he straightened the arms on the jacket and flipped up the collar in a classic bad boy move. You had to agree with the crowd. Cute adorkable neighbor Finn was quite different from Bad Boy Stripper Finn.

He gyrated to the music, losing his clothes as the music continued. He made his way to the end of the stage, leaping off and then leaning back on the edge, legs splayed showing off more than just his abs in the tight black briefs.

You froze when he started making his way around the tables, thrilling the ladies with a few well-timed thrusts and body rolls. Not sure if you could take the embarrassment if he saw you, you tried to get up and make your way to the bar in the back of the club.

Your friends turned away from the show to see why you were moving and they saw your panicked face.

“What’s wrong hun?” Natalya asked, immediately going into Mom mode.

“Uh, that’s him. My neighbor. Finn.”

Both of your friends almost gave themselves whiplash looking back at the current performer and then back at you.

“That’s the cute dork who collects Lego sets?” Nikki asked, disbelief washing over her face.

“Yes,” you hissed. “I don’t want him to see me, what if he thinks I’m stalking him?”

Nattie pulled you back in your seat.

“Well there aren’t any bushes in here, so don’t move. I heard men see movement like a tyrannosaurus rex. If you stay still, and look the other way, he’ll probably never see you. It’s pretty dark in here.”

You tried to make yourself look as small as possible, hiding your face in your hand.

“Are you sure?”

“Donnae matter, he’s coming this way,” Nikki blurted as she and Natalya tried to shield you from Finn’s gaze.

You were looking towards the wall, holding your hand like a visor, knowing you were blushing like mad. You felt a warm body slink up to you. You weren’t sure if it was your panicking or his body heat, but you felt like you were going to faint.

“Is your friend a bit shy?” a lilting Irish brogue asked, as he spun your chair towards him. Trapped between his arms, you looked up into his face, feeling like your whole body was on fire. If you didn’t die, you were going to murder Nattie for bringing you here. 

If he was surprised to see you, he schooled his face well. His eyes widened slightly when he recognized you, but quickly returned to his bad boy persona.

“I think you dropped something,” he said, his voice husky.

You glanced around your seat, trying to see what he was talking about. He gave you quick smile before bracing his hands on either side of you on the chair’s arms.

Using just his arms he lowered himself, his bare skin just barely touching yours as he flexed his muscles, holding himself up with one hand as he mimed picking up something from the floor. You made the mistake of looking down as his face hovered over your lap. His wicked grin as he looked up at you made your body tense in the most delicious way.

He slowly raised himself up and you found yourself unable to look away. His eyes burned into yours as his music faded.

“Hey (Y/N). How about that drink now?”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With Nattie and Nikki staring at you with expressions mixed between shock and excitement, they shooed you away from the table to follow Finn. He grabbed some water from the bar and ushered you to a hallway behind the stage.

He handed you one of the bottles, and you fiddled with the label, glad to have something to do with your hands.

“So…” you started, wanting to look anywhere but at his face, still feeling self conscious.

“Didn’t mean ta embarrass you,” Finn apologized, shifting his weight back and forth. He seemed to have shifted back to neighbor Finn, and you felt more at ease. You didn’t want to embarrass him either, so you gave him a quick smile.

“No no, I was just surprised to see you here.”

He laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I don’t really broadcast it. It’s good money for the hours,” he explained.

“You don’t have to defend it, I don’t have any problem with it. You are obviously very good at your job,” you said, waving your hands.

“Well thank ya for the compliment, I thought you were gonna pass out there for a minute,” he said, nodding back to the club floor.

“I came close, no lie,” you confessed.

“Is my dancing that bad?” he teased.

“Are you kidding me? There is no way you could classify that as ‘bad.’ Honestly, I didn’t want you to think I was stalking you,” you blurted out.

“You’ve thought about stalking me?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

You groaned in frustration and smacked his arm. His very muscle-y arm, connected to a very muscle-y shoulder. You shook your head to clear your thoughts.

“No, it’s not like that.I just-” you paused, trying to get your words straight. “I like you,” you confessed. You worried your bottom lip with your teeth, hoping your secret didn’t end up with you getting a restraining order. You’d have to move, after all your apartment was closer than yards from his.

His hand came up and lightly touched your chin, tilting your gaze back towards him.

“Love, look at me,” he said softly.

You allowed him to turn your chin and you lost yourself in his gaze.

“I like you too,” he said sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure how to tell you, or if you liked me back. And then with my job, I’ve heard so many stories from my co workers about women who can’t handle it. And I didn’t want ta lose you. Talkin to ya is the best part of my day.”

You felt your heart race at his confession and with Nattie’s and Nikki’s voice in your head encouraging you, you leaned up and kissed his cheek. When you pulled back, you could see a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he smiled widely.

“So no more jumping into bushes when I walk by. You’re gonna give me a complex.”


	2. When Crazy Comes Knocking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By all accounts, it was a normal day. The sun was shining, birds were chirping. You had gotten up that day and life went according to plan, as always. But with a slight miscommunication and a knock at your door, you opened your home and life to a man you had never expected.

The tinkling of china cups and the chatter of voices filled your home. You were artfully arranging a plate of finger sandwiches on a silver serving tray.

“(Y/N)!” you heard your name being called.

“In the kitchen Mim!” you answered, putting a sprig of parsley next to a stack of cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches. Your grandmother, called Mim affectionately by her family, swanned into the room. 

At 87, the octogenarian was still full of life. And every third Wednesday of the month, you helped her keep her social life going by hosting tea parties for all of her friends at your place. It also allowed you to spend time with your grandmother, who had helped raise you when you were younger. The tradition of pretending to drink tea from plastic toy cups evolved into long conversations over a steaming cup of earl grey in delicate china. And now, you played hostess so your grandmother could visit with her friends without fussing over the refreshments.

“Thank you again for taking into consideration Belinda’s new aversion to salmon when you were making the menu. I’m not sure what fad diet she’s on now, but apparently, it can’t even be in the room without her complaining,” Mim griped, stealing one of the petit fours off the dessert trays.

“It’s fine, I promise. It’s no worse than anything I deal with at work.”

“I know dear, but I don’t want you to stress when you aren’t at work. Especially since you are doing the catering for Peyton’s wedding.”

You shook your head.

“I’m just overseeing it, planning the menu and such. I promised to be hands off the day before and day of so I can help Peyton.”

“So how is the wedding planning going? Has Peyton gotten everything squared away? What about the bachelorette party?”

“Well, Billie is in charge of the party of course. I’m a little scared. Who knows what she has planned.”

Mim nodded sagely, knowing exactly how crazy the young Australian could be.

“Billie can be a handful,” she said with a smile.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

You were cleaning up plates as the women chatted over the tiny cakes you had created. Even though you ran your own catering business, you still loved to cook for others in your free time. The older ladies were clamoring over the different bites of cake, trying all the flavors you had made. Since you had to stick with cucumber sandwiches per Belinda’s new diet, you wanted to make sure the cakes were better than usual.

You deposited some plates into the sink when the doorbell rang. Wiping your hands on your apron, you bypassed the living room to your front hallway. You peered through your peephole, seeing a man dressed in a brown delivery uniform. You wracked your brain trying to figure if you had ordered anything recently, but you remembered you put your address down to hold gifts on Peyton’s behalf until she got back from her honeymoon.

Opening the door, you flashed the man a smile.

“Hi, sorry for the wait. Do I need to sign for this?” you asked, reaching for the large package in his hands.

“It’s pretty heavy, I’ll carry it inside for you.”

You looked at the box in his arms. The short sleeves of his uniform showed off very large muscled biceps, and it almost seemed like his shoulders were straining against the seams of the polyester uniform.

“Yeah, sure. Follow me,” you agreed, leading him to the kitchen so as not to disturb the women in your living room.

“Having a party?” he asked, following the chatter of the women.

“Yes, you can-” trying to get him to put the box in your kitchen. Instead, he set the box on the table behind the couch.

“I heard you ladies ordered a big package,” the man said, pulling a portable speaker out of the box. He pressed play. A pulsing beat started, and he started moving with the music. He spun around, ripped open his shirt, and saw a dozen blue-haired ladies staring at him over their teacups.

There was only a slight pause in his dance where he glanced at your horrified expression. Something had gone horribly wrong. Mim set her cup down, the clinking of china drowned by the aggressive dance music.

She opened her pocketbook and pulled out some bills.

“Well come on ladies. Get out your wallets” she cheered. The rest of the ladies followed suit, pulling out money. The man shrugged and started to dance in earnest. Regardless of his audience, he flirted with every woman present. Wrinkles and dentures be damned.

You watched from the kitchen bar, trying your hardest not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Mae, your grandmother’s closest friend looked like she was about to die from the excitement. You wondered briefly if you should have your phone out ready to call 911.

Belinda, bless her, had dumped out her purse to find spare cash, but instead quickly wrote a check and tucked it into his pants.

“You can fill in the name later honey,” she explained, patting his muscular thigh. He responded by pulling off his tear-away pants and tossing them.

\---------------------------------------------

You were back in the kitchen, cleaning up as your grandmother and her friends chatted up the stripper, who you found out was named Dean. They poured him a cup of tea, which he took politely. You half-heartedly listened to the conversations, washing dishes, and plating the leftovers.

\----------------------------------------

“So apparently this isn’t the bachelorette party for Peyton Royce?”

You laughed.

“It’s next week actually. The dates must have gotten mixed up somehow. Though knowing Billie, she probably gave you the wrong information albeit unintentionally.”

You opened the fridge to put away some of the leftovers and spied some beer.

“Do you want one?” you asked, holding up the glass bottle.

He groaned audibly.

“Oh my god, please. Now your grandmother is a lovely woman, but I’m not a tea person.”

You grabbed two of the drinks, passing one to Dean. He popped the bottle open on the edge of the counter, looking sheepish when you offered a bottle opener too late.

You both took long gulps of beer, your house silent now that all your guests had left.

“So, I think Mae was this close to a heart attack,” you teased, holding your fingers an inch apart.

“Which one was she? The one whose dentures nearly came out or the one whose hip nearly popped out of place?”

“The one who kept fanning herself and kept saying she had ‘the vapors’,” you supplied, giggling.

Dean laughed, and you tried not to focus on his abs flexing in his open shirt. You hadn’t participated per se in his impromptu performance, but you caught yourself staring several times. He didn’t have a lean figure, but you were never a fan of the dehydrated muscle look. Being a chef, you loved food, and you loved cooking. You found it hard to trust people who didn’t enjoy food.

“I’d apologize, but I’ve never had such a fun group. Those old gals know how to party.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. Just not sure how I’m gonna top this for next time,” you mused.

“Well, I know a lot of strippers if you wanna make this a recurring event. Maybe with paramedics standing by.”

“Real paramedics or fake ones?” you asked, flicking the open collar of his delivery man shirt.

“Technically both, Xavier, Big E, and Kofi are all licensed. They decided to base one of their routines on their day jobs. Probably half the guys I work with have two jobs. Dancing is good money, but a bunch of them just use it for extra cash.”

“Ah, I see. Do you have a day job too? I’d say you fit that uniform pretty well,” you said, waggling your brows.

Dean snorted into his beer.

“I’m not a delivery man, but thanks for the compliment. I’m full time at the club, and I do a bit of boxing in my spare time. So what do you do?”

“Well, when I’m not serving tea to old ladies, who clearly need a bit more fun in their lives, I run my own catering company, I love to cook.”

Dean flashed a smile.

“What do you know, I love to eat,” he said, as his stomach rumbled seemingly on cue.

“Oh, are you hungry, I can fix you something?” you offered, opening your fridge and peering inside to find something to cook. You were so busy focusing on your fridge that you didn’t see Dean eyeing your backside as you bent over.

“Tell you what. Since we are both professionals, it’s only fair if we do an even trade.”

His voice dropped a few octaves, almost purring. You turned slowly, your brow raised in interest.

“So I cook you a meal, and you what? Teach me boxing?” you tossed back.

He smirked, and you felt a shudder run down your spine at the predatory grin he gave you.

“Well I could, but I’m not a professional boxer. Have to be fair.” He took a few steps forward, crowding you against your fridge. The cool metal felt wonderful against your rapidly heating skin. Dean braced his arm above your head, his head right above yours. You brought your eyes up, his gaze almost too intense.

“There isn’t any music,” you mumbled, as his other hand trailed down your arm, causing goosebumps in their wake.

“Don’t need it,” he breathed against your ear. He started slowly, a few rhythmic beats. You swallowed, feeling the slightest brush of his body against yours. Instead of picking up the pace, he continued his leisurely dance, never breaking eye contact.

He wrapped your arms around his neck and hefted you upwards, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Leaning you back against the fridge, he was able to roll you along with his hips. You felt your face flush with heat at the motion. Dean was good… too good. He spun you around, carrying you to your table. He deposited you on the flat surface, bringing you to his level.

He bobbed and weaved to a silent song, no doubt a skill honed not only by his job as a dancer but his boxing as well. Facing away from you, he pulled his shirt off, exposing his well-built shoulders. You propped yourself on your elbows, admiring his body. He turned back, training his eyes on you once more. You scooted backward and he followed you, climbing on top of the table and you. The table creaked as he positioned himself over you. He lowered himself, his arms flexing as he ran his face along your neck before the slightest brush of his lips against your cheek. Things were heating up too fast but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You leaned up and brushed your lips against his. A loud creak broke the silence of the room.

You shrieked as the table collapsed with a loud bang, Dean’s body slamming into yours. You let out a grunt as the air was forced from your lungs.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” Dean asked, pushing himself up and staring at your face for any sign of pain. You stared into his face and opened your mouth to tell him you were okay.

Instead, you let out a bark of laughter, covering your mouth at the absurdity of the situation, just as you had watching Dean dance for your grandmother and her friends. Uncontrollable giggles escaped from behind your hand. Dean’s blue eyes crinkled and his laughter joined yours until both of you were breathless.

“This has got to be the weirdest day I’ve ever experienced,” you finally got out, attempting to bring air back into your lungs.

“I might have to agree with you,” he nodded, looking at the collapsed table.

“You’re a chef, shouldn’t you have a sturdier table?” he asked.

You shrugged.

“To be fair, I don’t think the company who made the table took into account this kind of activity during quality control. We should let them know,” you mused.

Dean rolled to the side and got to a kneeling position before helping you sit up as well. You took in the table's destruction, one of the legs had flown across the room.

“I don’t suppose you know any dancers-slash-carpenters?”


End file.
